Wavering
by silverskinned
Summary: After Levi slits his wrist to conquer his fear of blood, he's forcibly admitted into a mental ward. After all, there's nothing wrong with him. Right? LeviEren. AU.
1. shake

_**A/N:**__ hey everybody, please read and review if you like this fic! i'll try post weekly. love, silvy xx _

* * *

The lights flickered on and off haphazardly in the otherwise dimly lit office. It smelt lightly of baby powder and fish & chips - most likely from his co-workers and their tendencies to eat whilst working, despite his constant protests.

Levi had spent months conditioning himself for this day. He had researched techniques on how to overcome fear, how to eradicate a phobia, how to conquer a weakness. He was ready. The dark-haired male exhaled exasperatedly, almost silently, as he ran a hand through his shaven head, and picked up a scalpel.

_Imagine the outcome you desire._

_God_, he wanted it so badly. Since he was 17, which seemed like an eternity ago, Levi had longed with all his being to be a doctor, a surgeon, to follow the path of medicine as his late parents had. Blood pounded in his head like a constant drum beat - solid and certain, unlike the thoughts flooding in his brain. This fear was more than just a mere deterrent; it would surely become his downfall.

_Gradual desensitization._

Levi gripped the cool metal so hard his knuckles blushed white. _Pull yourself together, you asshole._ He picked it up, brushing the sharp tip against the pale skin that lined his wrists. He could see the faint green shadow of his veins, that intertwined within his body, carrying the substance that kept him living but at the same time, kept him _from_ living. _You piece of shit, this is what you wanted, this is what you want._

_Direct confrontation._

Levi pressed down, with a force that was purely unnecessary, and was immediately greeted with the sight of crimson. The liquid oozed with menace and seemed to mock him. _You prissy little shit, you, do you really think you can be a doctor with skills like yours? You may be good at your useless fucking books, but what about the real life? What about reality?_ It hissed at him.

Blood dripped down onto the floor, onto his books, onto his face, onto the nape of his neck. _God, I'm not your friend. I never will be, you spineless fuck, I will destroy you._ Levi trembled, white appearing at the corners of his eyes, spreading to his irises, the ceaseless shaking turning into a building wave of constant earthquakes, as the aching in his chest increased tenfold.

_Don't let the momentum subside._

He gasped, sweat matting his otherwise pristinely clean hair to his forehead, blood dripping down the entirety of his hand. _You'll never get what you want._

What...was the purpose of this again?

The endless voice in his head never shut up, never failing to rasp in his ear whenever he did something wrong.

"Shut up," he gritted his teeth, pushing himself upright. "I... don't need you." His arm jerked awkwardly and he looked downward again, blood creeping down and hitting the floor in steady droplets. _Stop, please._

Silence.

There's no such thing as a doctor who's afraid of blood.

* * *

The first thing that came to his mind was that wherever he was, it smelled obscenely clean. Bleach, or something, maybe? The smell of a hotel room, or a bed that was freshly made, steril as possible. It calmed him.  
Levi's eyes fluttered open, his eyelids feeling obscenely heavy, like they were drooping downwards.

Immediately, clammy hands gripped his own. Looking downward to see who it was felt like an endless struggle and a pounding headache was rapidly approaching.  
"Levi, you piece of shit," Hanji rasped, her voice cracking from probably not speaking for far too long. He shut his eyes, then opened them again. His throat felt dry and a lump of who-knows-what was lodged in his esophagus. His eyes met his wrist, which was bandaged in crisp white cloth. "You probably can't talk very well," she said, her eyes glimmering, "Your pain medication apparently makes you very drowsy."

Her hand tightened on his. His throat hitched.  
"I... can talk fine." He glared at her, but even that felt like a struggle. The ache in his chest was back, pounding like the constant beat of a timpani. "Atta boy," she grinned wider, and it pissed him off insanely. But that was the way their relationship worked anyway.

"I'll talk to you about this now, since there won't be another time before you get moved," she furrowed her eyebrows as she normally did when she was thinking deeply, "Why would you do that, Levi? You could have died if Petra hadn't left her keys in the offi-"

"-Moved? Where?" He interrupted. His eyes pierced hers and she inhaled sharply as he directed his strident eyes towards her own.

"St. Ivy's." Her chin jutted foward.

"S-St. Ivy's?" His voice trembled, he clenched his hands into tight fists.

"That's-"

"A psych ward, yes, Levi," she had let go of his hand already.

"I'm not crazy," his voice hitched and grew louder.

Hanji glanced towards the glass door that separated his room from the crowded hallway.

"I know that."

The thundering in his chest failed to cease, making it increasingly hard for him to breathe.

"People don't just cut their wrists open and nearly bleed to death, Levi." She stared at him, the emotion in her eyes almost unbearable. Almost. He glared back, before weakening.

"Doctors aren't afraid of blood."

She looked at the door briefly, before clutching his hand again.

"Doctors don't try to kill themselves," she said.

"I wasn't trying to kill myself," he stated firmly.

"Doctors... aren't afraid of blood," Levi repeated, his voice wavering down to a quiet pianissimo.

Hanji squeezed his hand, before rising from her seat with a clatter. She opened the door only stopping to meet her eyes with his own.

"It'll be good for you, Levi. It's not forever." She smiled, sadly.

"And besides," she opened the door.

"You're not a doctor."

Levi closed his eyes.

* * *

_**A/N:**__ hope you liked it, it's short but i promise the second chapter will definitely be longer! also currently looking for a beta/editor of some sort, please pm me if you're interested. please read and review it makes me happy xx _

_Next chapter: levi's admission into the mental ward, and eren's gradual entry to this fic. _

_xx silvy_


	2. quiver

_**A/N:** YAY FOR (RELATIVELY) QUICK UPDATES :D School is starting soon so I won't be able to post as much but my (brain) juices have been flowing regularly, so I hope you all enjoy [winces] also still looking for an editor/beta if anyone would be up for the job. please please review, i love reviews so much [faints] _

* * *

Levi had always been insanely bright. Well, in a textbook sense, not his personality (which was anything but bright.) Among the 300 students in his year, among his densely populated high school, he scored the top DUX prize, and received more than a fair share of scholarships to countless universities across the country, across the globe, even.

The prestigious OMAT exams – that determined whether you would be a doctor or not – loomed in nearly every student's minds, as they approached following the end of their graduating year. Not Levi. Out of a possible 1500 points, he scored, well, 1500.

His score tucked under his arm, he strode into the OMAT building, confident, aiming to please.

"Jeez, isn't that the genius who scored 100% on his entrance exam?"

"I heard he walks like a thunderstorm."

He didn't let it get to him. Much.

It was all fine, he was top of every single class he partook in: Collective Psychology, Cardiology 101, even Neurosurgery; which was an advanced class meant for 3rd year students. Until he decided to sneak into an abandoned viewing room and sit in on an open-heart surgery being conducted in the hospital wing of OMAT. The second the crimson liquid licked out of the female's chest, he nearly fainted, the fumes and apparent heat of the room becoming too much to bear.

The top student of the prestigious OMAT – _afraid of blood?_ Tch.

No one needs to know.

* * *

Levi had already given up on convincing the hospital superiors that St. Ivy's was not the place for him. They had a firm set jaw, aware of his position, convinced that Levi had been struck with some sort of mental turmoil (well, he technically had) or an apparent depression. No matter how much he protested, he was scheduled to arrive in- well, now.

He unlocked the car door as soon the black sedan had come to a stop. As soon as he was out, a brisk wind whirled through the clearing, mussing his hair. It annoyed him endlessly. It was already evening and the cicadas had begun to sound loudly from amongst the tall trees surrounding the building.

"Levi Ackerman?" An overly smiley attendant approached him, grasping his hand and shaking it vigorously. Her smile would normally be infectious but he met it with a cold, unresponsive glance. She didn't waver. Her auburn hair bounced near her shoulders, curling at the bottom in light-hearted waves in sporadic directions.

"My name is Lydia, pleased to make your acquaintance." Lydia's teeth were blindingly white, all her teeth short and straight and aligned. He nodded curtly.

"How long will I be in here?" Levi said bluntly, turning to scope out his temporary home for who knows how long. Long tendrils of ivy crept up the slightly faded brick walls of the infamous institute. No, it wasn't some mad asylum where insane psychopaths and child-molesting paedophiles roamed around freely; in fact it was the complete opposite. Levi had heard nothing but great news about St. Ivy's and frankly, it was fucking suspicious.

"Around 3 weeks if you meet all the requirements and behave," she smiled again as she said the word, 'behave.' "You'll be in a smaller dorm since you are older than most of our patients, and thus more trustworthy, but you will be sharing it with around 2 other boys."

He nodded, not that she could see, as she spun around on her heel, already speaking in a loud, clear tone.

"St. Ivy's was established in 1972, so we are still a modestly young ward. We have around 70 patients on each floor, and each patient is separated onto their respective floors based on mental status and cause of admission into the ward in the first place," she pointed to the ground. "Watch out for the caterpillar."

Levi made a point to avoid it, no matter how badly he wanted to piss her off; caterpillar guts was _not _something he wanted on his Armani shoes.

"What will happen to my school? I mean, what will I do to catch up on lost wor-" He was cut off suddenly, as Lydia patted him on the back with unnaturally remarkable strength for such a tiny girl.

"It's all been taken care of. Erwin – our president – has phoned up your institute and informed them of .all the circumstances – yes, all, don't make that face – and they've made adjustments to your school timetable and will provide all necessary support once you've returned." Lydia smiled, knowingly. "And no, your classmates and peers don't know anything – they've just been told you're on personal vacation."

He let his lips curl up in a small smile of thanks before returning to their usual scowl. They approached the entrance of the large building; the mahogany doors were intricately carved with lilies and daffodils and things of the sort, all delicately intertwining with one another to make an elaborate doorhandle and frame. Lydia rested her hand against the heavyweight door and turned back to smile at him, loose ringlets of her hair bobbing eagerly.

"Ready? Any questions?" Her eyes probed him. Levi swallowed.

"What floor will I be on?"

"Third," she answered matter-of-factly, her wide hazel eyes warm. It calmed him, strangely enough, even though she was as eager as a cocker spaniel.

"Why am I on the third floor?" He swallowed again, feeling the same feeling building in his chest once more. His words felt clumsy, normally unlike him, smooth and brooding.

"I mean- why is everyone on the third floor?"

She smiled again, turning to open the door.

"Suicide."

She swung the large door open and ushered him inside.

* * *

Everyone was way too smiley; that was his first thought. It smelt like a constant oven, chocolate chips, almonds, oatmeal, scents that all flooded into his nostrils the instant he stepped through the mahogany doors. It pissed him off. He preferred the fresh clean smell of a freshly made bed or a newly scrubbed floor. And besides, he had never been much of a sweet tooth.

"This is floor G – it stands for ground or general, I guess which it is really isn't important," she hurried him along, pressing her hands behind him to quicken his pace forcibly. Levi's legs still felt a bit stiff, unlike his usually fit self. Levi could see children playing on shaggy, colourful carpets – which disgusted him by the way, who even cleaned those carpets? – pressing fat clumsy fingers haphazardly against each other's equally chubby cheeks. Lydia caught him looking in their direction and answered immediately.

"We provide care for the children of patients, too." He nodded slowly, turning his gaze back to where they were walking. The ceiling was high, arched and painted a pristine white; this, he liked. They approached a large metal elevator, where she pressed a button labelled '3.' It lit up a fluorescent yellow.

"We try to avoid painting anything red here," she said, speaking in a jittery tone, "It angers some patients." She continued, spurting on nonsense about 'calming colours,' or something that was infinitely mundane for the dark haired male, as they stepped into the elevator, which shivered to life once they stepped inside. Jingly music played in the background, but he couldn't hear much over the sound of Lydia's droning voice. But he learnt to block it out – much like he blocked out the constant voices in his head.

"Here we are!" Lydia said, triumphantly, placing both hands on her wide hips, grinning widely. It pissed him off, as well.

The doors slid open seamlessly, and he was rewarded with grey marble flooring, smooth and soothing-looking; he wanted to stroke it and press his cheek against it to feel the cold seep into his skin.

They walked out in unison.

She manoeuvred her way through the large lounge, avoiding the dark black cushions and pillows scattered sporadically and haphazardly around the marble floors. At the end of the large, wide hallway, she turned into a corridor lined with dark wooden doors with names carved into them. Alex, Chiaki, Melissa.. Some crossed out, some filled in with plaster. Levi struggled to read all the names as Lydia rushed them through.

"Who carves all these?" He pondered, almost to himself.

"I do, of course!" She answered cheerfully. Ah. Of course.

She stopped abruptly. He slammed into her back, nearly winding himself. She had a very muscular back.

The door in front of them had three names carved into them:

**_Hugo_**

**_Joseph_**

**_Levi_**

All of the names were carved in solid lettering, swirling and beautifully even script. He had to give it to her; she was talented. It pissed him off. Another name was in process of being carved, carved out lightly and marked with paper tape. He exhaled uneasily, his breath ragged with anxiety. She pushed the door open- to meet an entire crew of cleaners making their way out. A tall male with shaggy hair nodded at her in respect, but not before she caught his arm in a firm grip.

"What happened?"

"Joseph. The nut slit his wrists this morning, we had to clean up before the new kid showed up." He nodded his head towards Levi, acknowledging him, albeit briefly.

"And?" She prodded. Lydia gestured for Levi to go in the room, urgently.

"And what else?" The door began to close on Levi, leaving him in the room smelling just a little too strong of bleach and detergents.

"He's dead."

The door shut with a bang.

* * *

"Hi, I'm Hugo!" A large, bearded man stumbled forward, reeking of coco pops. A layer of dried milk – or so Levi hoped – was encrusted around his mouth, and he embraced Levi, lifting his short stature entirely off the floor. "Don't fuck with the ballsack, 'ya got it?"

Levi blinked.

"Ne, don't mind him," another voice, deep, rich and playful. A young boy stepped out from behind Levi (from where, Levi had no clue) and stared at him, mouth carved open in a delicious, dripping grin. He couldn't be more than 16 – and that was putting it lightly – yet he towered over Levi _and _Hugo.

"And who are you," Levi coughed,; he hadn't meant to come off so abrasive, but he had. He had to stop that.

"Eren." The young boy beamed again, and Levi had himself thinking: 'How could someone as vibrant as this end up in the suicide ward of a mental institution?'

"DON'T FUCK WITH THE BALLSACK."

"Ne, that's right, Hugo!" Eren slapped him on the back. "You hear that, Levi? Don't fuck with the ballsack." He said it with such a serious tone that Levi nearly cracked a grin. Almost.

The room was neatly set into three sections: Each with a separate set of a desk & chair and a neatly made bed that Levi nearly drooled over. Levi walked over to his desk and opened the drawers. Neatly lined with velvet, floral printed note writing sets lay inside, pencils, pens and erasers lying in parallel lines amongst the pristine stationary.

_Happy, ne, Levi? Notice the lack of scissors; it's 'coz they don't want you to slit your wrists again, you fuckin' suicidal freak. _He nearly scowled out loud, but pushed back the voice inside his head.

_What's wrong, Levi? The great Levi is out of words to say! __**Finally.**__ I've been waiting for about a decade._ The voice cackled mercilessly before Levi cursed inwardly, trying with all his might to quieten his thoughts. It subsided quickly.

"Ne, Hugo, do you wanna play Scrabble?" Levi could hear Eren's friendly voice pierce his thoughts as the younger male attempted to converse with the older patient.

"Yes, Hugo wants. World peace! Stop the ostriches,, they're damagin' the ozone layer." His voice trailed off anxiously, and he resulted in chewing on his dangerously long beard. Levi doubted they let him near a razor to shave his beard off, though. The raven-haired male winced at the sight of saliva trailing off his now-wet beard hair onto his white Sesame Street t-shirt.

"Do you want to join us, Levi?" Eren smiled, beckoning Levi closer. He sat cross-legged on the carpeted floor, the oldest male staring, puzzled, at a cluster of letters scattered at his rather hairy ankles. Hugo looked up and smiled, his eyes dazed but friendly nonetheless.

_What's wrong, Levi, cat got your tongue?_

"Y-Yeah," Levi swallowed, trying for a smile. "I think I will."

* * *

_**A/N:** AGHHHH KIND OF DISAPPOINTED WITH THIS CHAPTER. But there's nothing really I can do about it, I hope it wasn't too mundane for you guys! :D Please please review, with suggestions for improvements and such; am I being too OOC with lil' Levi? I'm trying to portray him as confused with his personality, conflicted with his mental state and such but I hope it's not too confusing for you guys. Please review/fave/sub and I will love you forever (I already do though)_

_Xx_

_Silvy_


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